so this is how it goes. it's a sunday morning, two years in the future, eddie wakes to the smell of pancakes and coffee, hears the laughter coming from the kitchen. he makes his way out of bed, pulls on a shirt and peeks around the corner. buck and chris are standing side by side, swaying to a beat conjured up by a spatula and a hot griddle. eddie can't see their faces, but he knows they're smiling, wouldn't doubt it for a second. god, its domestic. buck looks back for a second and spots eddie, smiles, says 'hey kid, look who's up!' and chris turns and grins and eddie's whole chest sets on fire. buck's settled in here now, (eddie checked the closet. half is dedicated to his colorful set of too small shirts (not that eddie's complaining) and the other half is filled with eddie's straightforward set of black tees and soft henleys.)
it's a lot. it's so much and eddie wants.
so this is how it goes. eddie has this dream, often sees it so clearly his whole body aches when he wakes himself from it. when he wakes today, it's cold, cloud cover forming above la in a mix of smog and humidity. chris is awake in the living room, reading a book. the only sound is the tick tick ticking of their wall-clock. eddie brews his own coffee. breathes his own air. looks out the window like he's waiting for his husband to return from war (and isn't that image ironic).
it's the getting there, getting to this dream that's the hard part. it's like grasping at clouds, all vision and no substance. how does he get from point a. (lonely breakfast on a cold day) to b. (a cohesive family unit making breakfast on a sunny morning). and the thing is, eddie knows he could call buck right now and ask him to make breakfast for him and chris. he could ask him for fresh squeezed orange juice and buck would personally squeeze the oranges into his glass. eddie knows he could ask anything of him, but does he have the right? when buck is his own person? when buck is not his partner (not in that way and how could eddie ever be good enough for it to be)? when buck is so good? eddie doesn't want to ask because he doesn't want buck to leave. doesn't want to admit he needs him. doesn't want to disappoint him. doesn't want to lose him. and asking, that's what makes it real.
it's still and quiet and cold when eddie walks chris out to the bus, when he hugs him goodbye and kisses his forehead like he's still 6 years old (it earns a smiling eyeroll). it's still and quiet and cold when eddie pulls on his work boots and starts his truck and drives to the station. it's still and quiet and cold until he sees him. until light curls make themselves visible around the garage door. and then it's bright and light and warm, and eddie's heart nearly bursts with the emotion.
he cannot say it today, cannot ask in this moment, but he will. he's determined to.
he must, because in two years, he wants to wake, warm and rested, to the sounds of his family in the kitchen. his dream, like a whisper, will come to pass.
janainaart
areudirty
dededos
dailybridgerton
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